- 1. A Sigh
Evening sunshine never
Solace to my window bears,
Morning sunshine elsewhere fares;-
Here are shadows ever.
...
- 2. P. A. Munch
Many forms belong to greatness.
He who now has left us bore it
As a doubt that made him sleepless,
But at last gave revelation,-
...
- 3. To Molde
Molde, Molde,
True as a song,
Billowy rhythms whose thoughts fill with love me,
Follow thy form in bright colors above me,
...
- 4. Johan Ludvig Heiberg 1860
To the grave they bore him sleeping,
Him the aged, genial gardener;
Now the children gifts are heaping
From the flower-bed he made.
...
- 5. From Monte Pincio
Evening is coming, the sun waxes red,
Radiant colors from heaven are beaming
Life's lustrous longings in infinite streaming;-
Glory in death o'er the mountains is spread.
...
- 6. To My Father (upon His Retirement)
In all the land our race was once excelling.
In richer regions it e'en now possesses
Broad seats and fruitful; but by fate's hard stresses
...
- 7. Holger Drachmann
Spring's herald, hail! You've rent the forest's quiet?
Your hair is wet, and you are leaf-strewn, dustyâ?¦
With your powers lusty
Have you raised a riot?
...
